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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057277">Find me in 1000 sunrises</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores/pseuds/Ravensmores'>Ravensmores</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Immortal Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mortality, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Time Travel, Timelines, loosely based on The Time Traveller's wife, time travelling Katsuki Yuuri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:14:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores/pseuds/Ravensmores</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He can already feel the toll all this time travel was taking on his body: the near-permanent ache in his legs and neck, the scratch in his throat from throwing up so much, the lines already setting into his face portraying someone much older than he was supposed to be.</p><p>He tries to banish the familiar thought bubbling in his mind, but can’t stop the cold question rising to the surface once again.</p><p>  <em>How much longer can he keep this up and still be safe?</em></p><p> </p><p>Thanks to a one in a million genetic fluke, Yuuri has resigned himself to the fact that a normal life and relationship can never be on the cards for him. With ten years of constantly being flung through time, things like the past, the future and even day to day life barely mean anything anymore.</p><p>But maybe he's just what someone who's been static for years needs to stay sane.</p><p>A loose Time Traveller's Wife AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prelude: What it means to fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well after a LONG hiatus I'm finally back writing. This is an idea that I've been playing with for a while and I'm finally happy to start sharing it with you all.</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been a while since Yuuri had fallen somewhere so remote.</p><p>When he’d first opened his eyes to the sun flashing across his skin through the long stems of barely, he’d thought it had made quite the pretty picture. However, his contentment had faded pretty quickly after he’d stood up and seen nothing but those same long stems twisting for miles in every single direction, not a person or a building to obscure the shifting golden fields around him.</p><p>His shoes are already starting to rub uncomfortably from walking across the uneven surface for so long, the barley scratching against his skin every time he pushes further.</p><p>He grunts loudly when he stumbles and lands in a thick brown puddle, the white of his new shoes ruined in seconds.</p><p>
  <em> Why does he never fall anywhere convenient? </em>
</p><p>He pulls out the stopwatch he’d started when he’d first landed, sighing as he watches another hour slowly tick past.</p><p>He’s yet to come across any other signs of life, so working out exactly when or where he is has been a little trickier than usual. He knows he should really be thankful that he isn’t having to explain his dress sense to a group of scandalised locals in a language he probably doesn’t speak, but the lack of any interaction coupled with the frankly stifling heat is making every minute in this time drag past at molasses speed.</p><p>Eventually he comes across a small break between fields, so sits down, taking a second to look up at the sky. It’s an undisturbed canvas of blue, the sun radiant and high. It’s only when he adjusts his glasses that he sees a few white steaks cutting through, fading like cat scratches against the skin.</p><p>Aeroplane tracks.</p><p>He sighs and heaves himself up, squinting to try and see which direction they’d come from.</p><p>Air travel narrows it down a little at least, with any luck he’ll be able to track down some sort of town if he follows them.</p><p>He has no idea how long he’s going to be stuck here and he’d rather not sleep in a field.</p><p>Not after last time.</p><p>The sun is much lower in the sky when he finally comes across a hedge at the end of a field, a small gap trodden down in the middle where people had clearly made their way through. He lets out a relieved breath when he pushes through and comes across a relatively modern looking road. The tarmac is worn and dusty, but the barriers on either side look new. Hugging the foliage as he walks, he concentrates on each car that drives past, mentally making a note of the year and model.</p><p>When you’re in situations like this as much as Yuuri, you get pretty good at dating tech.</p><p>It’s only after he makes his assessment on the rough time period that he finally notices a road sign poking up against the trees in front of him.</p><p>Running up to it, he quickly scans it to try and make sense of where he is.</p><p>
  <em> PERUGIA 98 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ROMA 170 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ASSISI 85 </em>
</p><p>The Italian clicks instantly, thankfully something he’d been trying to pick up the basics of ever since his last fall to Florence and the looks of utter confusion he’d gotten from everyone he’d tried to ask for directions.</p><p>Turning back down the road, he bites his lip considering what his next move should be.</p><p>
  <em> Will he be here much longer? Should he just try and hitch a ride somewhere? </em>
</p><p>After a few moments of dithering, he leans up against the edge of the sign and holds out his hand, watching the glowing orange of the horizon over the bushes as he gets ready to wave down the next car that goes past.</p><p>And in a heartbeat, it’s all gone.</p><p>The feel of the metal under his fingers dissolves into air, the rush of his returning fall suddenly loud and cold in his ears as his body heaves him back. He folds himself as tight as he can, hands and feet tucked under himself as he tries to block out the sharp ache radiating through every fibre of his being, nothing but a squeezing darkness piercing him from every direction.</p><p>It’s over in seconds, his hands and knees suddenly against the plush carpet of his apartment.</p><p>He immediately reaches out to throw up in the waiting trash can by his sofa. His shoulders shake with the effort as he empties himself, stomach twisting in a painful knot. “<em> Fuck,” </em>he murmurs, coughing roughly into the can a few more times before collapsing back against the floor.</p><p>Lazily dragging his gaze to the window above, he notices the soft morning light when he left was now much darker, the London skyline enveloped in the rich hues of the evening. Shutting his eyes, he rubs a hand down his face trying to relax the tightness in his jaw and be at least a little grateful he was only gone for a few hours this time.</p><p>Carefully listening to the slow tick of the clock in the corner, he idly wonders if it was ever going to get any easier. It was ten years next month and frankly he was sick of having to plan his furniture purchases over how easily he could get vomit stains out of them.</p><p>Although that one had felt a little rougher than usual.</p><p>Taking a few steadying breaths, he suddenly feels warm breath by his hand and a softness tickling his fingers. Sitting up, he can’t help but smile as Vicchan slowly rubs up against him, a fresh box of tissues in his mouth.</p><p> “Good boy,” he whispers as he lightly pets behind the fluffy poodle’s ears, picking out a tissue so he can properly wipe his mouth.</p><p>A few stretches and a glass of water later finds Yuuri reclined in his armchair, dog in his lap and diary in his hands. Flicking through the pages, he stops in the middle, quickly making notes of his latest trip before he forgets.</p><p><em> Oct 5 </em> <em> th </em> <em> – 7 hours 48 minutes. Italy 1970-1980 judging by road signs and cars. </em></p><p>He leafs through his previous few falls, trying to see if there was any reason he ended up where he did. It’s the most modern fall he’s had for a couple months, but nothing tying it to his last few trips.</p><p>“Still no discernible pattern,” he murmurs to Vicchan, running the pen against his bottom lip. “What do you think?”</p><p>Vicchan cocks his head at the words, before yawning loudly and curling up more comfortably on his lap.</p><p>Yuuri can’t help but smile at the sweet picture. Vicchan was the one thing keeping him sane through all of this- the one living thing he could count on during all this craziness. </p><p>Moving carefully, he slowly lifts the small poodle in his arms before carefully depositing him back in his dog bed.</p><p>After some dry toast and another glass of water, Yuuri makes his way over to his own bed, the exhaustion of the trip quickly catching up to him as he flops down on the mattress with his diary. He’d made sure to change the sheets yesterday, knowing he was due another fall and how he wasn’t going to have the energy to do any chores for the days that followed. </p><p>It irritated him to no end.</p><p>Ten years. Ten years and still no answers as to why time was using him as it’s plaything or what exactly was going to happen to him or when he’d end up next. He’d long since stopped crying and questioning ‘<em> why me?’, </em>the decade of no answers resigning him to the fact that this was just his life now and he had to find a way to live it. Even if it was getting harder with each passing year.</p><p>He grunts as he rolls over, the sharp pain in his knees radiating clearly as he tries to find a comfortable position.</p><p>He can already feel the toll all this time travel was taking on his body: the near-permanent ache in his legs and neck, the scratch in his throat from throwing up so much, the lines already setting into his face portraying someone much older than he was supposed to be.</p><p>He tries to banish the familiar thought bubbling in his mind, but can’t stop the cold question rising to the surface once again.</p><p>
  <em> How much longer can he keep this up and still be safe? </em>
</p><p>He pushes the thought away for now, putting his diary down and curling further into the duvet.</p><p>No one had been able to tell him that. For now, he should just hope that next time he’ll go somewhere fun.</p><p>***</p><p>On the other side of the world, Victor carefully opens his own diary. He flicks through the pages, smiling when he comes to a date that’s been underlined and circled with thick red marker for years now.</p><p>There’s a plane ticket taped to the other page, along with details of an apartment lease, a time and a book shop address.</p><p>He’s keenly aware that he doesn’t need any of this written down, that he’s known it all off by heart for years now… and yet he can’t stop himself checking. Just to make <em> sure </em>that he’s gotten everything right.  </p><p>He can see his hands shaking a little as he slowly turns the pages, the heavy knot in his stomach constricting even more as he sees how few days were left until it was time.</p><p>Victor knows he shouldn’t be nervous, but something about this all finally coming together after waiting for so long has a kind of excitement he hasn’t felt in decades sparking wildly under his skin.</p><p>He carefully closes the diary and puts it on top of his travel bag, his eyes flicking around the emptiness of his bedroom. He isn’t moving for another month, yet he’d already packed everything important and put everything else from the apartment into storage. He was going to wait until the end of the month, but somehow he couldn’t stop himself, as if packing now would somehow speed up the time.</p><p>
  <em> Time. </em>
</p><p>He chuckles softly as he sits back on his bed, thinking about how this was the first time that concept actually meant something to him.</p><p>Lying down, he slowly reaches under the pillow for the one thing he’s yet to pack. The silver picture frame is still as polished as the day he’d bought it, the picture inside meticulously preserved.</p><p>He’d replaced the glass in the frame every few years, keeping the picture hidden and cool until he knew it was safe to put back in his bedroom. He knows it would make more sense to display somewhere, yet now more than ever he just wanted to keep it close. Keep <em> him </em> close. </p><p>Victor smiles fondly as he looks at the picture again. He had precious few pictures of the two of them together, but he knows he can change that soon. And for now, this would do.</p><p>The picture is brown and grainy but he can still make both of them out, clear as day: Victor barely able to stifle the grin as he stands behind his companion, a hand resting firmly on his suit-clad shoulder. Looking closely, he can see that the other man’s glasses are slightly askew, that he’s holding his breath as they wait for the picture to be taken and that he was bouncing his leg in anticipation like he always does when waiting for something causing it to blur slightly.</p><p>It was a perfect moment. And Victor can’t wait for a hundred more.</p><p>“30 days,” he murmurs, placing the picture back under his pillow and looking over to the soft, pinkening dawn out the window. “I’ll be there Yuuri.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Find me through the fog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“We’ve met before?”</p><p>His smile widens a little. “A couple of times.” He drops his scarf and extends a hand. “I’m Victor. Victor Nikiforov.”</p><p>Yuuri automatically takes the hand offered to him, more than a little confused. That name definitely sounded familiar to him, but he’s fairly certain that he’s never seen this man before. Someone with a smile that wide and a face that symmetrical is someone he’s sure he’d remember.</p><p>He slowly pulls his own hand away smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I-” </p><p>“Oh sorry.” Victor interrupts with a slight chuckle. “I mean I’ve met you already, but this is the first time you’re seeing me.” His smile doesn’t falter as Yuuri’s brow furrows, leaning a little closer and dropping his voice. “Time can be pretty confusing for both of us I think.”</p><p>Yuuri takes a second to process the words before it suddenly clicks into place.</p><p>He feels his stomach drop.</p><p>Time.</p><p>***</p><p>First meetings and first confusions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yuuri has always liked the rain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both friends and family alike had warned him about the dire dampness of the English weather when he’d decided to move, but it was actually something he’d been looking forward to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back home, he’d never fretted about being caught out without an umbrella or cancelled plans when it had started to drizzle. Something about the cool of the water on his face and hair helped ground him when he was feeling out of control, the soft patter against the window of his room the sweetest background noise as he studied or slept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus the constant feel of the raindrops made him completely sure he was still walking along in the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weather today had the added bonus of creating a mostly empty street on his walk to work today, the chill of the firm Autumn wind coupled with the sudden downpour pushing the 6:30 commuters to coffee shops and busses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He usually runs hot after falls for a couple of days, so the cool wetness gathering on his skin was a welcome sensation as he ran across the slippery pavements into work. Phichit had already been waiting in the foyer with a cloth for his glasses and a towel for his hair, the same sympathetic glint in his eye he had every time he turned up after one of his more nasty falls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d made the same comment about how the rain was</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘never going to catch either of them off guard’</span>
  </em>
  <span> before shoving their bookstore’s schedule into his hand and going off to get his daily bagel from the bakery a few doors down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had however seemed to have caught out the man who Yuuri had been trying to stop eyeing for the past ten minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d rushed in the minute the bookstore had opened and had been pacing around the bookshelves on the lower floor, chest heaving as if he’d run all the way here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri had noticed him the second he’d entered and had been watching ever since from a couple of floors above, the book he’d been meaning to reshelve long-forgotten between his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even from his vantage point so far away, Yuuri could tell he was gorgeous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His features were sharp, the skin that wasn’t bundled up in a thick coat flushed and rosy from the cold. The pink of his full bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he moved, the hair not hidden under his beanie Yuuri was fairly certain was the softest shade of silver. He definitely isn’t the kind of person Yuuri is used to seeing in the store on a Tuesday morning, the few other customers in the shop watching with the same level of curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some more subtly than others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches the man give an awkward smile to one of the women standing just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>too closely to him before hastily walking away towards the stairs, head ducked down. Yuuri quickly backs away from the railing he’d been leaning on, mentally chiding himself for acting like such a creep. He was here to work and help, not try and pick up his customers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes away the thought of just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>it had been since he’d last been on a date or had any romantic contact with anyone for that matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it’s really much of an option for him these days anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly walks to the back of the room to shelve the book he’d been holding, pushing away the sour edge of his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows it’s true, but it isn’t something he likes to remind himself of too much. He still has somewhat of a normal life to live.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking to the side of the room to grab the stepladder, he suddenly hears the tell-tale creak of someone heading up to his floor. He instantly straightens himself, silently pleading:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t be. Please don’t be. Please don’t be-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning round, he feels his stomach flip with the force of a trained acrobat as the same man appears at the top of the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels himself dive behind the nearest bookcase before he even has time to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peeking through the gap in the shelf in front of him, Yuuri notices him start methodically pacing up and down the rows of books, the same lost look clouding his expression as he pulls off his hat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri quickly turns his back to him again, a hot lump forming in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yup. Gorgeous and </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>silver-haired. It isn’t fair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never been one to spy on his customers, so this whole scenario just feels stupid. This man was clearly someone who needs help and here he is, hiding in a corner and getting all hot under the collar because of a pair of long legs and pretty eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives himself a quick pinch to the arm before taking a second to smooth out his shirt and adjust his name tag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a breath and walks up to him, best customer service smile in place. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man visibly jumps when he looks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yuuri?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His words are breathless and barely audible above the soft chatter of the shop. “It’s actually you.” His eyes are almost comically wide as he stares rigidly at Yuuri’s face, his voice laced with something Yuuri can only describe as wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri swallows, surprised by the sudden scrutiny. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man quickly blinks himself back to reality, a hand coming to his mouth as if trying to hide the grin suddenly illuminating his expression. “Wow… you’re actually here. I just never thought…” The man trails off, fingers still pressed firmly to his lips. His eyes move across every corner of Yuuri’s face as they stand there, surveying him like he’s the most fascinating piece of art he’s ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Yuuri feel more than a little uneasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything more, the silence growing long and awkward between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” He eventually asks, almost feeling crushed by the weight of the man’s gaze as they stand between the quiet bookshelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh- yes. Yes you definitely can.” He doesn’t say anything else for a few seconds, eyes still wide as he continues to stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri awkwardly clears his throat. “Okay. What do you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs again, low and soft as he twists the edge of his scarf between his fingers.  “Oh sorry, I’m just excited. It’s been years, and you said you’d be here and you actually are and you’re so young and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve met before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile widens a little. “A couple of times.” He drops his scarf and extends a hand. “I’m Victor. Victor Nikiforov.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri automatically takes the hand offered to him, more than a little confused. That name definitely sounded familiar to him, but he’s fairly certain that he’s never seen this man before. Someone with a smile that wide and a face </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>symmetrical is someone he’s sure he’d remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly pulls his own hand away smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh sorry.” Victor interrupts with a slight chuckle. “I mean I’ve met you already, but this is the first time you’re seeing me.” His smile doesn’t falter as Yuuri’s brow furrows, leaning a little closer and dropping his voice. “Time can be pretty confusing for both of us I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri takes a second to process the words before it suddenly clicks into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels his stomach drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh wow. So I met you while I was-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Falling?” Victor finishes, nodding gently “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Yuuri swallows as he tries to take in the sudden development situation. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to meet him… in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was his future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri shakily exhales, reeling from the emotional punch his brain had just received. “I mean I always knew something like this was a possibility but I just really didn’t expect…” He stops himself rambling, looking back to Victor apologetically. “I’m sorry, this has never happened to me before, I just never thought that-” His voice trails off, unsure exactly what to say next. The phrase ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry time travel is kind of confusing</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ just doesn’t feel quite right for this conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s expression stays soft, but Yuuri can swear his cheeks are a little pinker than before. “I know it’s strange. I mean I know you, but you don’t know me yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So- when did I last see you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few years ago now.” Victor reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small pocketbook, quickly flicking through the pages as he continues. “You actually told me this was the exact time and place I was going to see you.” He stops on a page near the middle before turning it towards Yuuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking down he can see he was right. Carefully written on this exact date was the address of the shop, the time he’d be here and even the phrase ‘don’t bring an umbrella,’ underlined three times. Yuuri feels his words stick in his throat as he looks back up. It’s definitely his handwriting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been so many years, I half expected you not to be here, but then I saw you and- it’s like no time has passed at all really.” Victor’s words are getting quicker, his voice filled with the same excitement Yuuri would expect of a small child being given a puppy. “I was wondering why you told me not to bring an umbrella, I mean not everyone likes the rain as much as you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- what?” He can feel himself struggling to keep up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You talked about this place so much, but being here is still so surreal.” Victor seems oblivious to Yuuri’s internal confusion as he turns to look over the rest of the store. His eyes eventually pause on the blank wall across from them, “You haven’t even started on your collage yet. Wow, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>be young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri can barely hear Victor’s musings over the sound of his heart pounding with the force of a bass drum in his chest. Concrete proof of just how screwed up his timeline really was is standing in the middle of his shop. He’s a total stranger to him and he’s just casually spewing out information about him and his store no one else should know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a step back, his mind starting to fog with all the information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. No he isn’t a total stranger. At least, Victor doesn’t think he is. But it’s still his future. Would he even remember this conversation when it happened? Victor was speaking with the ease and informality of someone who’d known him for years. And he’d come all this way to find him- because Yuuri had </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>him too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He briefly closes his eyes, the expanse of his shop suddenly feeling far too crowded.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What does it mean? What does any of it mean? Why would he ever-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice cuts through the heat of his panic, a gentle touch to his shoulder pulling him back to the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri takes a breath, closing his eyes for a long second. “Sorry. This is so much to comprehend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might be coming on a little strong,” Victor murmurs, hand squeezing his shoulder a little more. “I swear I’m trying to do the best I can. I know this situation is strange to say the least.” He briefly looks away, his free hand lightly fiddling with the ends of his scarf again. “I always thought I’d be much smoother than this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri raises an eyebrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he embarrassed?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything, he can’t help but smile a little at his flustered expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri takes another long, cool breath as he tries to sort through the mess of thoughts in his head. “I just have so many questions and I don’t even know where to begin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s smile doesn’t falter. “We don’t have to do anything now. Why don’t we have a proper talk about this all a bit later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him wants to say no, wants to run out the door and try to ignore just how messed up his life really was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri looks to the shop floor and then slowly back to Victor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet he can’t. His curiosity is just too much at this point. Plus, nothing about the man opposite him seems dishonest, the firm warmth of the hand still resting on his shoulder is even strangely soothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hot panic in his mind starts to dissipate a little as he finally answers. “That’s probably a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor nods slowly, gently lifting his hand from Yuuri’s shoulder. “Would you like to have dinner? Tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor claps his hands together, face somehow even brighter and more brilliant than before. Yuuri feels his cheeks burn a little at the sight. “Great! I’ll text you the place!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” He pulls his phone from his pocket only for Victor to shake his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, I already have your number.” His smile only deepens at Yuuri’s surprised expression. “You gave it to me the last time I saw you, said to wait until I actually met you to text as you couldn’t remember when you got your new phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels his mind buffer. “I- okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect! It’s a date.” He quickly reaches out to grab both of Yuuri’s hands, squeezing warmly. “I’ll see you later,” he says a little more softly before releasing his grip and taking a few steps back towards the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri watches in a slight daze as Victor heads across the shop floor before swiftly turning on his heels to wave back to Yuuri with a wink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head still buzzing with every word that’s just transpired, all he can do is wave back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow he’s attractive.” Phichit rewinds the security camera footage, leaning in to watch Victor enter the shop for the fourth time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri rolls his eyes, thankful for the privacy of their break room as they shamelessly stare at Victor on the bright laptop screen. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he’s already met you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he say when?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phichit pauses the footage again, an eyebrow raised as he turns to Yuuri. “I told you this would happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri fails to hide his scowl at Phichit’s jovial reaction. “I didn’t think it would be like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you expect then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri sits down, dropping his chin to his hands. The glow of Victor on the computer screen gives his presence a cool, almost ethereal brightness and it’s more than a little distracting.  “I guess just someone passing in the street maybe recognising me,” he eventually answers, dropping his eyes from the screen. “Definitely someone older.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like he’d never thought about this happening, but he just knew the chances of meeting someone during one of his falls and then seeing them again was pretty unlikely. It’s not like he actually had time to make friends during those periods anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phichit shrugs and turns back to the screen, rewinding it for the fifth time. “So what’s so bad about this then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just can’t believe that I’d do this.” He thinks about all the careful work that must have gone into this, how much of an impact Victor was going to leave on him if he was eventually going to tell him to come and find him in the present. “I planned this Phichit. I gave him instructions- instructions he might have waited </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>to follow. He can’t just be someone random.” He thinks about the sparkle in his eyes as they talked, the almost musical excitement in his voice as he watched Yuuri try to comprehend what was going on. “He just seemed so happy to see me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phichit scoots his chair a little closer, waiting until Yuuri meets his eye. “It sounds like you mean a lot to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. That's what makes it scary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phichit looks back at the footage and then back at Yuuri, gently closing the laptop. “I think you should go to dinner with him and find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he’s just some crazy fan or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phichit snorts. “You’re not that famous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri rolls his eyes. While he is special, he’s also perfectly aware he isn’t the only person in the world like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was usually a news report or a documentary every few years talking about the few of them that exististed, but the hype quickly dropped when they realised that they couldn’t exactly be useful. None of them could change the past and they were never in the future long enough to make any accurate predictions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of them had formed a group text years ago, but it turns out just listing places you’ve been gets rather boring after a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just didn’t expect him to be so hot right?” Phichit crosses his arms, cocking his head as Yuuri quickly looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the shock had mostly worn off, staring at him on the camera footage had reignited all the butterflies fluttering in his stomach from when he’d first seen him. People </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>good-looking didn’t really notice him now and he can only imagine what years of time travel are going to do to his face. God-knows how weathered he’d be when he did meet Victor for the first time. It’s part of the reason he’s so interested to know exactly how and where they met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As nervous as he is, he knows that he has to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phichit sighs and reaches over to lightly touch his shoulder. “Look, if it gets weird or you feel uncomfortable, just text me three peach emojis and I’ll come and rescue you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri can’t help but laugh, remembering the last time he had to use that exact tactic to get out the world’s worst blind date. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I want details the minute this is over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phichit smiles before wheeling his chair back and reopening the laptop. “Maybe this will give you some answers on how this all works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He briefly looks down to his phone, noticing the text that had just appeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unknown: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does 8:00 work? I know a great place for steak. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unknown: It’s ( ´ ♡ ⁾⁾⁾) btw.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He suppresses his chuckle at the frankly adorable emoji, quickly adding the number to his contacts and sending back a quick </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pockets his phone and rolls back to the desk, happily watching Victor enter the store for the twentieth time and laughing softly at how wet he must have gotten in the downpour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well hello again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor is already sitting at their reserved table, head resting in his upturned palm as the waiter shows Yuuri to his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor. It’s nice to see you again.” He hopes the fact he’d been rehearsing those words in his head for the past half an hour isn’t too obvious as he sits down opposite him. Though the minute he’d caught eyes with him across the floor he could feel all the nerves from before flaring with an almost painful intensity in his gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help that he looked even nicer than when he’d seen him earlier. Gone were the layers of thick outdoor clothing and the pink flush of embarrassment painting his cheeks. Now his expression was much easier, his smile sharp and the perfect match to the crisp shirt he’s wearing, unbuttoned </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough to make Yuuri’s palm sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri had had a separate dilemma about what to wear tonight, as the restaurant Victor had text him was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice. He’d done his best to look good, swapping his glasses for the contacts he seldom used and putting on the date-night shirt he hadn’t taken out of his wardrobe for about three years now. He wasn’t exactly sure if this was supposed to be an actual date or just a catchup, the nature of his and Victor’s relationship something that made fresh waves of unease wash over him every time he thought about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor pours him some water from the jug on the table as Yuuri settles himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you probably have some questions,” he says calmly as he passes him the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He immediately takes a long sip to soothe his dry throat before answering. “More than a few.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’ll do the best I can, but you always said to never tell you too much about the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always said you wanted events to take the most natural course they could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri takes another sip of water, trying his best not to overthink the situation more than he already had. “I guess that makes sense.” His head always started to hurt whenever he tried to comprehend how his timeline actually works, this only making things a thousand times more complicated. “I just can’t believe I told you about the collage I was planning for the store.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently I’m going to help you with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I have no ideas right now so that would actually help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor chuckles and leans forward a little “I have more than a few ideas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teasing look on his face is just a little too much for Yuuri right now, so he briefly distracts himself by spreading his napkin across his lap. He knows the words are harmless, but the weight of possibility behind them, the knowledge he had the Yuuri didn’t- it was hard for him not to fall back into the panic he was in before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking back up, he sees that Victor had leaned in a little more, his chin once again resting on his palm as he watches Yuuri with the same fascinated expression from back in the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri knows the heat in his ears has nothing to do with the candles around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few long seconds, the silence is more than unbearable. “Uh- Victor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor suddenly straightens himself a little, blinking rapidly as if remembering himself. “Sorry. I’m  just not used to seeing you so young.” He shifts back in his chair, eyes still playful. “How old are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“24.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor laughs again, softly shaking his head. “Wow. Now I feel like a pensioner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels his stomach constrict again. “Oh God, do I meet you as an old man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aha, no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with more than a few grey hairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relief he feels at the statement immediately burns up when a larger and older fear settles in the front of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still isn’t sure if he’s going to even get to old age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to hide the panic on his face, one hand gripping tightly on his own leg under the table. “So- you’ve never seen me old?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s eyes widen before he quickly ducks his gaze. “Uh- I guess it depends what you define as old.” For the first time today he looks awkward, lips taught and palms locking together like he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry, I’m probably saying too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri considers his next words very carefully. There are things he desperately wants to find out, but some questions he knows he’s still too scared to ask outright. “ So when was the first time you saw me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s expression relaxes. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>long time ago. I was just walking home with my dog and you just… fell out of a bush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri barely holds back his snort. “That must have been a dignified picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then you threw up on my shoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Oh I was so mad. I thought you were some drunk homeless person.” Victor chuckles softly again, his eyes bright as he speaks. “But you immediately started apologising and you offered to pay for a new pair. You were babbling so fast I could barely understand what you were saying. Plus your Russian was absolutely awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri puts down his glass. “You’re from Russia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor raises an eyebrow. “Can’t tell by the accent?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri can’t help but smile. It’s not like he hadn’t been thinking about the way the low timbre of his voice wrapped around every word. “I didn’t want to assume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve just come over from St. Petersburg actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. That’s far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worth it though.” He winks on the last word causing Yuuri’s pulse to spike. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was he going to be able to disarm him this easily in the future?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As he tries to kill the blush he can feel warming his cheeks, another thought creeps to the front of his mind. He feels his breath hitch. “Did you come here for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, answering as easily as if Yuuri had just asked him if he was cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri blinks rapidly in surprise. “I- wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor leans in again, hands slowly sliding across the table as he speaks. “I know it sounds like a lot, but I promise we’ve been planning this for quite a while.” His fingers gently brush Yuuri’s as he finishes, the touch almost tender against his skin. “Please trust me. I wouldn’t do this if I- if </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>weren’t sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri swallows again. He knew this conversation was going to be a lot, but he wasn’t ready for just how much this was going to disorient him right from the start. Victor wasn’t just here on a friendly visit, he’d come across the </span>
  <em>
    <span>world </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see him- probably uprooting his whole life for him and Yuuri still can’t fathom why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could he possibly do in the future that could make someone like Victor put in all this effort?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes that thought away for later, instead taking another long breath and readying the other questions he’d been desperate for answers to. “How old did I look when you last saw me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor looks away before shrugging. “I mean… I think it’s about ten years from now for you? I’m not sure exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri breathes out, trying to ignore how much he’s probably sweating.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ten years. He’s still here in ten years at least.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifts his napkin to lightly dab his face, looking back to Victor again. “Okay. Well, how many times have we met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean I’ve lost track of the exact number, but it’s been dozens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… dozens?” Yuuri feels his brain short-circuit for probably the tenth time today.  That couldn’t be right. There’s no way that could be right. Every fall is supposed to be random. “How is that even… but you’re so… why you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor pulls his hand away from Yuuri’s, shrinking back in his chair as he clears his throat. “I… don’t know if I can really shed any light on that situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels his rising confusion give way to annoyance. “I’ve spent years trying to figure out ways to control where I fall and yet  in the future I’m going to run into you dozens of times?” He waits until Victor catches his eye again, pressing his palms firmly into the table and lowering his voice. “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor takes a sip of his own water. It takes slightly too long. “I- can’t say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri digs his nails into his palms. “Well I’m asking you now.” He can feel the pent up fear and anger from years of being time’s plaything flood like a burning river through him. The answer is </span>
  <em>
    <span>right in front of him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he needs it more than anything else. “Please,” he begs quietly. “I’ve spent so many years trying to make this easier. Do I find a way to control it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s slight unease has shifted to very visible discomfort, Yuuri able to feel the way his legs were shifting erratically under the table while one hand nervously brushes his fringe from his eyes. “You- I mean we-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drinks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both turn as the waiter arrives at their table again, oblivious to the turmoil between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without missing a beat, Victor’s calm persona is back in place- words quick as he answers. “I’ll have a dirty martini and he’ll have a G&amp;T. Cucumber not lime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri’s mind reels as he watches the waiter walk away, whipping his face back to Victor. “You- know my drink order?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s smile is still bright, but Yuuri can see a slight tightness behind his eyes. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The restaurant suddenly feels far too hot, the collar of his shirt digging almost painfully into his neck as he shifts in his chair.  “What else do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean we’ve talked a lot, so a few things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri clenches his hands again, exhaling hotly. “What’s my favourite colour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I was a kid, what did I want to be when I grew up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A figure skater, but you quickly dropped that dream after you broke your ankle trying to impress a girl you liked at the rink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels his shoulders tighten as Victor laughs softly. He’d only told two other people besides his family that story due to how embarrassing it was. It isn’t something he drops into casual conversation and there’s no way Victor would know that unless Yuuri </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>trusted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes him feel more than a little nauseous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes another breath and looks Victor dead in the eye. “What’s my biggest fear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor leans in again, words dropping to a whisper. “Well, when you were younger it was that you’d fall through the ice at your local rink and get trapped, but when you got a bit older- you told me it changed to not being able to get back when you fell somewhere. That you’d be stuck in some foreign time period with no way home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth drops open as the words leave Victor’s mouth so easily. Those fears are things he’d never told another living soul, the latter being something they still crept it’s way into his nightmares on his lowest days. And here Victor was, here this </span>
  <em>
    <span>stranger </span>
  </em>
  <span>was, spewing some of his most personal details like he’d peered inside Yuuri’s mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri was going to open up the rawest parts of himself to this man in the future- and yet he didn’t tell him how to handle telling him all this information in the present?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the choking heat of his anxiety starting to claw through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too much. Far too much. He can’t do this now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor continues to sip his water as if nothing was happening, his posture relaxed in his chair. “You really don’t need to worry. For as long as I’ve known you it hasn’t happened so I very much doubt it’ll ever-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know me.” The words are blunt as he starts to put his jacket back on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor puts his glass down, immediately moving to Yuuri’s side of the table. “Yuuri?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinches away from Victor’s touch as he reaches his hand out, dropping his head when he catches the hurt flashing across the other man’s face. “You don’t- you can’t know me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts as Yuuri starts to move away from the table, words rushed and quiet.“But I do. And you know me- you know me really well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri ducks around him as he moves closer. The only thought pounding through his head is how much he wants to be alone right now. Everything around him is already starting to fade into static, his breathing uneven and shallow as he blindly pushes away from their table. “No I don’t. I don’t know anything about you and you just waltz into my life telling me things I haven’t told another living soul but not the one thing I want to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s stopped in his tracks as Victor strides in front of him, holding both hands out. Through the fog of his fear, he can see the desperation on his face. “Yuuri wait. I’m just trying to do what you wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I want is for you to leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yuuri please.” He takes a step forward as Yuuri starts to move again, uncaring of the stares of other people around them. “I know this whole situation is… strange to say the least. But it’ll make sense I promise.” He reaches out again, fingers lightly brushing the very edge of his shoulder. “I’m a-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just stay the hell away from me okay!” The words come out much louder than he’d anticipated, the quiet ambiance of the space ruined as the words bounce hotly between the walls of the restaurant. Victor instantly pulls away, face wide with shock as Yuuri stares him down with thunder in his eyes. “I don’t care what’s supposed to happen in the future. But I know I don’t want any of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice cracks on the final word and he can feel his vision starting to swim with frustrated tears. Though right now he can’t bring himself to care if Victor sees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wants all this to be over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor stares dumbfoundead for another second before he finally drops his head, hands balling to fists at his side. “This- this wasn’t supposed to happen.” His words are softly defeated. “You said-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care what I said,” Yuuri spits quietly. “What I’m saying now is that I’m leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks for just a second more before he moves again, walking as quickly as he can to escape. He feels the firmness of Victor’s arm as he brushes past, the other man’s voice a gentle murmur as he walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yuuri-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t bump into me again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words are sharp as he leaves Victor behind, the whispers of the other guests dissolving into his own harsh breaths as he stumbles into the night air. He doesn’t even stop to see where he’s going as he continues to walk, his only thought was that he needed to get as far away from this whole situation as he physically could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels his lungs start to burn as he picks up his pace down the street, the tears welling in his eyes finally spilling down his cheeks. He scrubs them clumsily as he keeps moving, the orange and yellows of the street lights blurring into a neon mess around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he can’t run forever, can’t escape the fucked up production that was his life- but right now he doesn’t know what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wants to make it stop. Even if he knows he’ll never be able to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly feels his feet catch on the pavement and he flings his arms out against the wall next to him to avoid crashing forward. He leans his head against the cool brickwork as he catches his breath, his mind aching and heavy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not fair,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he whispers shakily to himself,  palms pressing harder to the rough stone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why can’t I just be normal?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the same wish he’d been repeating to himself ever since he’d fallen for the first time those years ago. Every day he didn’t fall was just a tease of the normality he so desperately wanted before his next trip cruelly reminded him that it’s something he can never have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And tonight was only further proof of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the swirling mess in his mind and the burning pain in his feet, he barely notices when the damp flat of the pavement under his shoes disappears, the wall against his hands dissolving into nothing as he looks up. His chest starts to seize as he sees the stars above him swallow into darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows this sensation all too well.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No. No please not now,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he gasps, grappling with the remnants of stone against his palms, but he knows it’s too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he can do is close his eyes tight and let the familiar cold pain rip through his body as everything around him disappears into a thick black cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s falling again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>New chapters every fortnight!</p><p>Come say hi to me on <a href="https://ravensmores.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> - @ravensmores<br/>Or <a href="https://twitter.com/RavensmoresFics">Twitter</a> - @ravensmoresfics</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Coming to an understanding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Only took 8 months... but I'm back!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first feeling of any fall is always the cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how many times it happens, Yuuri is sure that he’ll never be able to ready himself for the sheer wall of chill that rips through his whole body as the world drops away. This time however, he can barely comprehend the sting of that cold as he falls, his mind far too clouded with the sheer confusion of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s falling now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He instinctively curls his body in as tightly as he can, the familiar lurching pain shooting through him as he desperately tries to comprehend what’s happening. But, before he has time to even form a coherent thought, the darkness is pierced by the bright lights of his destination, his body slamming into the ground with an audible thud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lays still for a moment. He lets the familiar ache slowly leave his limbs as he tries to centre himself. One question still swirls sharply at the front of his mind as the fog lifts. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s barely been any time since his last fall. Why has he travelled again so soon?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently moves his legs against the floor as he lets his mind settle. Whatever the reason, he has more pressing issues at the moment- namely figuring out exactly where and when he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels carpet against his hands as he moves, the air still save for the gentlest drip of what sounds like a tap or kettle coming from somewhere close by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. He’s in someone’s house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Due to the lack of confused shouting, he assumes whoever lives here isn’t home. He sucks in a quick breath of relief at his first piece of good luck of the day, the pains in his head finally subsiding enough for him to open his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ceiling above him is uncracked and white, the soft pink light of either early morning or late afternoon filtering through the air. The furniture around him is minimal, just an old upholstered sofa behind him and a desk across from the coffee table he’s currently lying next to. The fireplace in the corner is clean, but Yuuri can feel a lingering warmth coming from it as if it had been lit in the last few hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows. Someone might be on their way home already and he’d rather not be caught trespassing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last time was awkward enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As slowly heaves himself to his hands and knees, the pain in his body suddenly shifts to his stomach. He quickly presses his hands to his mouth, desperately trying to stop himself throwing up on the pristine carpet in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even register the soft footsteps approaching him until there’s a hand lightly resting on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face jerks up at the voice, all the remaining air knocked out of his system when he recognises the face in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely inches from his nose is Victor. Yuuri watches with mortified shock as he moves so he’s crouching down beside him, the same gentle smile from earlier resting on his face as he holds a small metal bucket towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!? But-” His surprise is instantly knocked back by another wave of nausea causing him to fall back onto his hands, his stomach seizing painfully. “Oh God.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bucket is pushed under him just in time and he doesn’t hesitate to grip the sides as the first round of vomit finally breaks free. After a few grueling seconds of rough heaving, he feels the lightest touch running up and down his back, softly petting him as he coughs wetly. Slowly lifting his head, he sees Victor scoot a little closer to him, one hand against his back, the other pressing a pack of tissues towards him. Yuuri grabs them immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like that was a rough one,” he says quietly as Yuuri wipes the worst of the spit from his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri tries to lift himself up but his stomach instantly protests, his legs buckling from the strain. “I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor sighs, tactfully taking the used tissues from his hand and throwing them in the bucket. “Okay- one second.” Yuuri sucks in a sandpapery breath as he watches Victor stand and grab a couple of the sofa cushions. Crouching back down, he shifts Yuuri so he’s leaning against the edge of the sofa, placing one of the pillows against his back and one under his legs. “Better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri blinks a little at being maneuvered so easily, but feels the knot in his gut start to relax a little at the new position. “A little,” he murmurs, shifting the pillow behind him a little. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s smile brightens at the words, “It’s never a problem.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels himself blush a little at the softness of his expression. Wherever he was and however Victor was here, he was still as pretty as the last time he saw him. He’s dressed in a deep blue sweater, his jeans loose and feet bare against the carpet. It’s only now that Yuuri notices the water droplets clinging to his hair, the soft silver the deeper grey. His skin is flushed slightly pink, his presence warmer than Yuuri would have expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I get you out of the shower?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor chuckles. “I was just finishing up when I heard the crash. Thankfully you didn’t land on the kitchen table this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri ducks his head into his knees. “Oh- uh sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Victor laugh. “I’m just glad you didn’t land in the bathroom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri keeps his head glued to his knees, equal parts embarrassment and annoyance flooding through him as he tries to figure out what to do next. As he exhales, he feels Victor move closer to him, his head snapping up as his stopwatch is pulled from his jacket pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might want to add a few extra seconds to that if you want to be completely accurate,” he says as he starts the stopwatch. He doesn’t hesitate as he presses the watch back into Yuuri’s hand before perching on the sofa behind him. Yuuri watches him cautiously as he picks up a notebook and pencil from the edge of the coffee table and starts writing. He swallows when he notices that it’s exactly the same one he’d shown him in the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri turns to stare dumbly at the stopwatch in his hands. No one had ever started that watch during his falls besides him. No one else would even know the reason why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up, Yuuri can see how content Victor is, humming quietly as he writes in his notebook. His face is soft, nothing about the situation seeming to faze him in the slightest. It’s the first time he’s met someone while falling and not been met with confusion or outright hostility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri looks back to his hands, the puzzle pieces of this situation slowly starting to join in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor wasn’t surprised by his presence in his living room, had started his watch when he saw Yuuri hadn’t, hell- he had a bucket ready for his vomit like it was the most natural thing in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like he’d done it before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri exhales slowly, the further proof that the Victor he’d left really was telling the truth settling heavily in his mind. He looks back up to the current Victor, unsure of exactly where to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor,” he starts slowly, waiting for the other man to properly meet his gaze. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor pauses his writing, expression puzzled. “This is my house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels the knot in his stomach squeeze again. “No, I mean- why am I </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He gestures to the room and then back to Victor. “Why am I with you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor puts down his pencil and kneels down next to him again, words low. “You haven’t been here before have you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri tries to smile through a familiar panic rising in his mind. “First time I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then.” Victor picks his notebook back up and flicks to the middle, hastily scribbling something. “So when was the last time you saw me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hurried scratch of the pencil is starting to irritate Yuuri. He reaches out to lightly push the notebook out of Victor’s eyeline. “Why do you keep doing that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor quickly shuts the book, eyebrows furrowed. “Syncing my diary?” When Yuuri doesn’t respond, he carefully puts it back on the coffee table. “Have we not done this before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s eyes widen. “Wow, I thought you looked young. Okay, first time for everything.” He settles more comfortably next to Yuuri, his voice a little more excited as he speaks. “Was I with you when you fell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we were having dinner and I left and… now I’m here.” He looks around the room again, confusion still cloudy and thick in his mind. “But I don’t understand why. Why is it you? Why am I here right after speaking to you?” Yuuri suddenly clocks the television by the door, chunky and old. “Wait. What year is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees Victor visibly swallow, his eyes trained to Yuuri’s face like he was trying to piece together Yuuri’s rapidly disintegrating train of thought. “Yuuri. How long have we known each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before I fell it was my first time meeting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor brings a hand to his mouth, reeling back in surprise. “Oh my God.” He looks at Yuuri again before abruptly standing and  starting to pace a little too quickly around the room. “Wow. I didn’t think that- I mean, when I last saw you… I never considered-” his broken mumbles quickly trail off as he comes to a complete halt. When he turns back to Yuuri, he’s smiling again- eyes beaming like Christmas had just come early. “Did I make a good impression? Please tell me I said something smooth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gleefully excited expression lighting up Victor’s face has Yuuri’s answer sticking in his throat. His first instinct is to chew him out for not telling him the full truth earlier- but he knows that that hasn’t happened for him yet. This Victor had been nothing but kind, done everything to make him comfortable and was currently staring at him like he was about to tell him the winning lottery numbers. He doesn’t deserve any of his anger right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a breath as he considers the most tactful way to explain himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were... very charming when I first saw you,” he eventually answers, “I was just a bit freaked out by the whole event.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor nods slowly, coming to sit next to him again. “That’s understandable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri moves a little as Victor grabs a pillow from behind and sits more comfortably next to him. Yuuri feels his pulse rabbit a little at the proximity, his eyes raking up and down as he slowly takes him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything about Victor here had such an air of softness- from the way he moved, to the gentle roughness of his voice, even the smell of his clothes was mild and sweet. He inhales discreetly, the scent familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Roses.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly looks down, hoping Victor doesn’t catch the redness he can feel starting to burn in his ears and cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri looks back up at Victor’s question, unsure of exactly what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. He was the furthest thing from okay right now- everything about this whole situation was a mess, like he was in the centre of a maze he’d spent the last ten years trying to make sense of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a few seconds to choose his answer. “Why am I going to keep meeting you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t look away, but Yuuri sees the slight unease flicker across his face. “How much have I told you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing so far. We… didn’t get much talking done at dinner.” He curses himself at his own vagueness, but frankly he doesn’t feel like explaining that whole situation right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s hands start fiddling with the bottom of his jumper. “So we haven’t…” his voice trails off again, bottom lip quickly caught between his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor holds Yuuri’s gaze for another second before quickly dropping his eyes. “Uh- nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri leans in a little, voice louder. “Victor. Please”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri sighs in frustration. “Let me guess. I told you not to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He collapses back against the edge of the sofa, head dropping to his knees in annoyance. “Victor, this is why I was so freaked out when I met you. You know so much, and I’m still worrying about how much of a future I actually get.” He takes a second to calm his breathing, trying to quell the fear that had been present in the back of his mind ever since he fell for the first time. He feels his voice catch hotly in his throat as he looks back up to Victor. “I’m scared Victor. And this isn’t fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches the words wash over Victor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t move for a long moment, his fingers stilling against his sweater. Yuuri can almost see the weight of his plea hanging over Victor’s head, his previously firm gaze now quivering slightly as he continues to watch Yuuri with quiet caution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost unnerving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few long moments he slowly starts to move, words as hushed. “Yuuri- please.” He moves forward ever so carefully until the warmth of his breath is clear against Yuuri’s neck. “Your future is going to be amazing. I swear.” He tentatively reaches out to brush his fingers against Yuuri’s arm. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Please don’t worry about that.” He watches Yuuri gently, keeping his touch feather soft until Yuuri relaxes his posture fully. After a moment he brushes his fingers from his elbow to his shoulder. Yuuri can’t help but lean into the familiar touch. “I know it’s confusing, believe me I remember when I first met you I was in the exact same position, but this was the solution we came up with to have some semblance of normalcy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri shifts a little against the light caresses, the tension finally bleeding from his frame a little. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there was something coming that could really hurt you, then of course I’d tell you.” His words are still quiet, but laced with a stronger certainty as he continues delicately stroking his arm. “But for now, I don’t think either of us want all the things that are going to happen to us in the future spoiled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard not to get lost in the ease of Victor’s words, the rhythm of every sentence as measured and cool as the flow of the tide back home. A growing part of Yuuri desperately wants to trust him in the hopes he could finally bottle all this worry for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks back to the restaurant: his frustrations, his fears, the feeling of being left in the dark about his own choices- it’s still too much for his mind to just let go of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls away from Victor’s fingers, words dropping to a mumble as his head touches his bent knees again. “I just don’t know if that’s what I want now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor is silent for another moment. Yuuri can still feel the heat of his skin resting close, but he doesn’t make another move to touch him. “You told me this one of the first times I met you,” he starts quietly, “that this felt like the one thing you could control.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri turns his head at the words. “I said that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you wanted to be as sure as possible that you were actually making your own choices, not just following a path someone else has set for you.” Victor’s accompanying smile is something Yuuri can only describe as tender, the far off glisten in his eyes shining as if he was relaying his fondest memory. “Despite everything life has thrown at you, you’ve never let anyone dictate how you should act- not even your future self.” He chuckles slightly as Yuuri raises his head. “It feels so strange for me to be telling you these things when before it’s always been the other way around, but after a while I finally got what you meant. No pressure to do anything or be anyone other than ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri considers Victor’s words carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the minute he’d realised what he was, Yuuri had always known his own timeline could never be smooth. He’d never felt like he was walking down any kind of solid path, more like he was navigating the thinnest tightrope, every step uncertain until one jolt topples him back into the unknown. For the past ten years, all he’s wanted is to find some kind of meaning to all this, that all this pain, all this frustration had to be leading to </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He can time travel for God’s sake- there has to be something he can make of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Otherwise, these parts of his life essentially lead to nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back and closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Victor tells him his future, will he strive to follow that out of fear? Or will he desperately try to deviate just to see what happens?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels his palms getting a little sweaty just at the thought of it. Neither of those options feel like any sort of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything about his life is already confusing and so much of it painful. Maybe this is something he should embrace and see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his eyes and turns his head to regard Victor’s relaxed expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s time to put his trust in someone else for once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relaxes a little more against the sofa, the cloud of fear over a decade in the making finally lifting just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor sits back up at the words, a visible relief spreading across his face. “You’ll understand it all soon. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri nods, finally heaving himself to his feet so he can collapse properly onto the sofa. “I believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor quickly follows suit, his arm sliding along the cushions behind them until it rests just behind Yuuri’s shoulders. Strangely, it feels more personal than any time he’s touched him before. “Do you have your diary with you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri reaches into his jacket to pull out the small pocketbook. “This?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not your diary… wait.” He quickly jumps to his feet and strides to the desk on the other side of the room. He spends a good few seconds rooting through one of the draws before stepping back with a triumphant flourish. “This is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks back and deposits the small notebook in Yuuri’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns it over between his fingers. The leather cover is a rich blue, the paper delicate and unblemished. It’s the kind of pocketbook you spend hours fretting over when writing in it the first time as that first entry has to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gingerly putting it down, he tries not to think about just how much this must have cost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor looks to the diary and then back to Yuuri, eyes shining with a gentle awe. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to give you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words are hushed but they hang heavily in the air around them. Yuuri swallows nervously as his fingers curl around the edge of the book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows there’s something between them, something Victor has been radiating from his very being the minute he’d seen him back in the present. He could feel it then, but it’s stronger now, something more potent now they’re on Victor’s home turf. The happiness of his every action, the ease of his words, that sparkle in his eyes- it’s strong but Yuuri can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s almost annoying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor was halfway through their story leaving Yuuri confused on page one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks back to the notebook, quietly clearing his throat. “So, when was the last time you saw me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels Victor recline against the back of the sofa a little more. “Uh… a few months ago? You were a bit older though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was nice. We went ice skating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri isn’t quite sure how to respond. Part of him is desperate to pry for more information, but given all they’ve talked about, he knows it isn’t the right time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Victor’s sunny voice that finally breaks the silence. “Would you like some tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri looks back, suddenly very aware of how parched his throat was from the surprise of the fall. “Yes please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes later they’re perched at Victor’s kitchen table, the teapot steaming between Victor’s hands as he pours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri shrugs out of his jacket, grateful for the warm morning air filtering through the open window behind them. It always takes a while for the shivers from his fall to completely go away and his joints are only just starting to move properly again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what year is it anyway?” Yuuri asks, taking a long sip as Victor sits back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“2002.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri almost spits his tea straight back out. “Wait really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor gestures to the Calendar hanging on the wall. “Yup. 26th June.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri quickly glances to where Victor was pointing, sure he was mishearing him. His eyes bulge a little as he sees the date printed clear as day, a different sort of confusion starting to brew in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels his brain start to whir as he looks back to Victor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s travelled almost twenty years into the past and the man in front of him looks almost exactly the same as when he’d left, only his clothes any indication that this was even a different day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans forward in his chair, really focusing. He hadn’t had much time to study Victor’s face before he fell, but he’s sure that everything about him looked practically identical. His skin was as fresh, his silvery freckles smattered in the same pattern across his nose, even the soft curtain of his fringe fell the exact same way across one eye. It was like he’d somehow dragged a memory of Victor back through time with him, Yuuri sure that even all the moisturiser in the world wouldn't be able to keep his face looking like that in the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unless...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor shifts back from Yuuri’s prying gaze. “Something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri clears his throat, hands tightening around his mug. “Have you ever time travelled like me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor regards Yuuri carefully for a moment before answering. “No. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri swallows, shifting in the chair a little. “You just- you barely look any different in the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor opens his mouth before closing it gently, expression softening as he shakes his head. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> haven’t had much time to talk have we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Not yet.” Yuuri bites his lip as he thinks of his bitter words before he left Victor back in the present. “I was a bit overwhelmed by it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor nods, taking a long sip of his own tea. “I know. But believe me, even now I’m looking forward to the first time you meet me.” He sighs as he puts the mug down, eyes looking out just past the edge of the table. “I’m trying my best, I promise, but even with all this time to prepare I’m already nervous.” His finger starts slowly tracing the edge of the cup. “We both have such complicated situations. For the longest time I never really thought I could have any sense of normality in my life- but that was before I met you.” His eyes drift back to Yuuri, voice and face as gentle as an early morning rain. “You gave me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches over as he finishes, fingers coming to rest against the back of Yuuri’s hand on the table. His touch is still hot from the tea cup, but Yuuri knows that has nothing to do with the warmth rising like a sauna under his own skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a beat of silence between them, all of Yuuri’s words stuck in his throat. He can feel the gravitas of Victor’s feelings with every word, the soft weight of his gaze almost resting with a physical pressure on his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so much that he just can’t understand. Take away his falls and Yuuri was… just Yuuri. Most days he was any other face in a crowd- and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>it that way. He doesn’t want to leave any more of an impact on the world than he already has to, sure that he really doesn’t have the luxury of forming any more real relationships in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So why is Victor looking at him like that?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He shudders ever so slightly as Victor lightly brushes down the back of his hand, choosing his next words as carefully as he can. “Victor. Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor reaches over to tap the front of Yuuri’s diary with his other hand. “Ask me about it when you get back. I bet I’m dying to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri exhales slowly, some of the tension in his shoulders melting away. He can wait until he gets back for his explanation, for now he just has to ride out the next few hours as calmly as he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks up the diary and turns it slowly in his hands. “Okay, I will.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor smiles. “Just- try and keep an open mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find out when you get back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Was I this annoying and unhelpful when you met me for the first time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe me. You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor hides his answering chuckle behind his hand. “Well I guess you’ll find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spend the next half an hour filling out their respective diaries, covering exactly where Yuuri had fallen to and where he’d come from</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never landed in St.Petersburg before,” Yuuri comments, opening up his other notebook and flipping to the rough map he’d drawn in the back a few years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, it’s going to become a habit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll start working on my Russian when I get home since I’m going to be here so much,” he murmurs, making a note to look up teachers when he returns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor chuckles quietly, eyes not leaving his own notebook. “Good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I become fluent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri smiles, proud of his future self. “When?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor stops writing, an eyebrow raised. “Do you really want me to tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri thinks for a second. It would be nice to know when he’ll actually be able to speak with Victor in his own language, but knows an actual deadline will just have him feeling anxious. “Hmmm. I suppose not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sure you’ll get there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri’s head snaps up at the near-perfect Japanese that leaves Victor’s mouth, the grin painting his lips downright devilish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay that’s not fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And why is that?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri quickly looks back down to his handwriting, almost annoyed at just how nice his mother tongue sounded when wrapped in Victor’s low voice. “You can’t just… spring that on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey it took me ages to get this good.” Victor quickly switches back to english, flicking to another page of his diary and showing the lines of shakily copied Kanji. “When I first started learning, you said I sounded like a confused old man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri laughs gently, trying to imagine it. “Oh I can’t wait for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only after their respective pages are full of notes that Yuuri starts to feel the last few hours catch up to him properly. Confusion mostly worn off now, the tiredness from his fall is starting to settle heavily into his limbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely stifles his yawn as Victor starts tidying the cups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tired?” He comments breezily as he sits back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri rubs his eyes. “Yeah. Falling usually takes it out of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to rest? You’ve had a pretty long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For as strange as this situation is, Yuuri knows he'd rather stay sitting with Victor right now. Even if there weren't any answers to his future to be found right now, their conversation is far more interesting than anything he usually gets up to when he falls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again he isn’t sure he’ll stay sitting upright much longer if he doesn’t lie down for at least a few minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly stands, carefully putting the new diary back into his jacket pocket. “Yes. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor picks up his own diary before turning towards the kitchen door. “Come with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leads them down the hall and into what looks like a guest bedroom, lightly pushing Yuuri towards the large made-up bed in the centre. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri mutters a quick </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he toes off his shoes and settles himself. He notices Victor reach for him slightly before quickly pulling back, something unreadable flickering across his expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri ignores it, grateful for the plush of the duvet now cradling his aching body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor waits until he’s fully lying down before slowly backing away. “I’ll let you recover for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops in the doorway at Yuuri’s call. “Yes?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri sits up on his elbows a little. “I- I just want to say thank you for everything today. I know I haven’t been the easiest to deal with.” He wants to say more, wants to find the words to tell him all about the colourstorm of emotions that have gone through his mind in the last few hours but right now he just can’t. Whether it’s the exhaustion or the sheer weight of everything that’s happened he isn’t sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just hopes that his gratitude can be enough until they meet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t answer right away. Yuuri notices his fingers and mouth twitch a little as he watches Yuuri lie back down, like he’s rolling a thousand different answers through his mind.  Eventually he takes a small step forward, words low and calm. “It’s never a problem. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I don’t understand yet, but the next time I see you I will.” His fingers press against the diary in his jacket pocket. “Hopefully I’ll be better company then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s answering smile is the gentlest of the morning, his expression warm but faraway like he’s looking at a sunrise or the moon on a cloudless night. “Trust me. You’re doing great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves the room without another word, leaving Yuuri to lay back and think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the smooth white of the ceiling for a few long moments, wondering about what his next move should be. He isn’t sure how long he’ll be here for but he’s perfectly clear on one thing now- he needs to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Victor in the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows thickly, remembering Victor’s face as he’d stormed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After everything he said, would he even want to talk to him after that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes and rolls into his front. He can find the right apology when he gets back, right now the only thing he wants to do is close his eyes and not think for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls onto his side, hugging his jacket close before the aching exhaustion of the last few hours pulls him into a deep and dreamless sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All will become clear soon...</p><p>Come say hi to me on <a href="https://ravensmores.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> - @ravensmores<br/>Or <a href="https://twitter.com/RavensmoresFics">Twitter</a> - @ravensmoresfics</p></blockquote></div></div>
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